


What Did He Do To You

by robindrake93



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Aftercare, Aftermath of Violence, Anal Sex, Blood and Violence, Boys Kissing, Bruises, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drugged Ronan Lynch, Fight Sex, Gentle Sex, Joseph Kavinsky is His Own Warning, Light Dom/sub, Love Bites, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Noah Is Cold, Platonic Sex, Richard Gansey III is a Good Friend, Rimming, Underage Drug Use, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:33:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21544573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robindrake93/pseuds/robindrake93
Summary: Gansey doesn't understand why Ronan keeps letting Kavinsky hurt him. Noah just wants to help. Kavinsky wants to watch the world burn.
Relationships: Joseph Kavinsky/Ronan Lynch, Noah Czerny/Ronan Lynch
Comments: 4
Kudos: 49





	1. Gansey

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written because I was sick and accidentally got high off cold medicine. It was a very, very bad trip and I used Ronan as my avatar for writing out how awful I felt during the whole thing. And then, well, this happened.
> 
> If you don't like the font color, click "Hide Creator's Style" at the top and it'll revert to black. Don't reupload/repost my fics.

It was five o'clock in the morning when Ronan limped into Monmouth. He strode past where Gansey was sitting among his model of Henrietta and went straight for the desk. From the desk he took out a black dog collar. Ronan turned heel, hissed through his teeth as his wounds ached, and walked through the cardboard buildings to drop the collar into Gansey’s lap. He was drifting, he was losing himself. He was floating on the remains of whatever drug Kavinsky had injected him with and it was breaking Ronan into smaller and smaller pieces. At this point, he wasn’t sure he could find his way back to his body. Ronan needed to be grounded and for someone else - someone rational - to be in control. 

Gansey looked up from where he read his journal. He couldn’t quite hide the horror in his expression fast enough. In a moment, Gansey was on his feet. His hands reached out for Ronan and the collar was buckled around his neck with care to the bruises there. “Oh, Ronan, what did he do to you?” 

As soon as the collar was on, Ronan sank to his knees. It helped, somewhat, to have this routine already in place. This thing that was meant to ground him. A safe way to give up his control. Ronan kept his breaths light because everything hurt. He pressed his cheek into Gansey’s thigh. 

Gansey gently touched Ronan’s buzzed head. He moved his hand like normal to pet him and accidentally touched a lump. 

Ronan whined, low and pained. His head throbbed. 

“Stand up, Ronan,” Gansey gently ordered. There was blatant worry laced in his voice. This was new behavior for Ronan. He tugged lightly at the shoulders of Ronan’s t-shirt to encourage him. “Go to the bed.” 

It was with great effort that Ronan stood. He didn’t want to be on his feet anymore. The room spun, blackened, and then spun again once his vision came back. Once he was almost sure that he wouldn’t fall over, Ronan shuffled to the bed. He stood beside it, waiting for his next order. 

“Let me see what he did to you.” Gansey said. “Lay back.” 

Ronan eased himself down. He laid on his back, knees dangling off the edge of the bed. He wasn’t sure if Gansey meant to strip Ronan himself or not. There were some things that he didn’t want Gansey to see. So Ronan pulled his jeans down to his knees - careful to keep his boxer-briefs in place - and tugged his shirt above his head. It got tangled in his wrists and Ronan left his arms above his head, too exhausted to do anything about it. He twisted the fabric around in his hands. 

Gansey gasped at the sight of him. Both hands covered his mouth. He hesitated only a moment before joining Ronan on the bed, kneeling beside him. His hands hovered over Ronan’s body but didn’t touch. He whispered ‘ _oh my god_ ’ over and over. 

Even though Ronan hadn’t seen himself, Ronan knew what Gansey was seeing. He could feel it all with terrible clarity. His face boasted a split lip and swollen eye. His nose was crusted with dried blood. A ring of purple around his neck bespoke of an enraged strangulation. From his neck down, there were mottled purple bruises and red hickies that bore the indents of teeth. His pectorals featured deep scratches. Shallower scratches covered his hips and dipped down past the waistline of his boxers. Both of Ronan’s knuckles were scraped raw from punching Kavinsky so many times and knocking out a tooth. There was a clean cut on his bicep from a broken bottle. Ronan’s back was a mess of more scratches, bruises, and vicious bite marks. 

And Gansey couldn’t even see what was hidden by Ronan’s boxers. 

Gansey kneeled in silence for long, long minutes. Eventually he said, “Stay here.” He got up and moved deeper into the loft. 

Ronan didn’t move. By now he was good at staying still. The collar bit into the bruises around his throat and reminded him of how they’d gotten there. He kept his one good eye closed. Behind his eyelids, he saw bloody flowers blooming in hyperspeed; one on top of the other, choking each other as they grew too fast and burst behind his eyelids. It made Ronan nauseous but he couldn’t will himself to be sober. There was a reason that Ronan didn’t do drugs and this was it. Everything on the inside felt broken and tangled. He wanted to die. 

The bed dipped when Gansey returned. He set some things on the bed beside him. Something cold and wet was used to dab away the blood on Ronan’s face. 

Ronan groaned. He didn’t want cold. The cold burrowed under his skin and settled in his bones like needles. 

“Sorry,” Gansey whispered. “I’m sorry, Ronan.” He was careful when it came to washing away the blood but it still hurt. It was still a frozen hell. He moved from Ronan’s face to his arm. “That needs stitches.” The stitches were going to wait, apparently, because Gansey moved on to Ronan’s chest and then some of the worst bites along Ronan’s ribs. All the while, Gansey murmured to himself too lowly for Ronan to make out the words. He washed the scratches on Ronan’s hips. “Are there any more wounds?” 

Gansey had no idea. 

Ronan rolled onto his side, facing away from Gansey. He was now laying on his cut bicep but he didn’t care. It hurt but that pain didn’t stand out any more than the rest of it did. Besides, when it was smooshed into the comforter, it lost some of that iciness. Ronan didn’t say a word. He didn’t trust himself to speak. His throat felt tight and Ronan squeezed his eyes tighter so that he didn’t cry. 

Gansey gasped again, his horror unable to be contained. Then he sighed, deeply. Gently he began to scrub the blood from Ronan’s back. “I don’t understand, Ronan. I literally don’t understand why you let him do this to you.” The usual judgement was gone from Gansey’s voice; all that remained was sorrow. 

Gansey’s sorrow was another thorn twisted into his heart. Ronan didn’t speak, couldn’t find an answer. A tear rolled down his cheek, out of sight. What could he say when he didn’t know? He didn’t know why he let Kavinsky hurt him like this. He didn’t know what had triggered the need for the brutality. And then there was the other part. The part that Gansey could _never_ know because then he would look at Ronan like Ronan was a monster. A secret that Ronan kept close to his chest was that by the time they were done with each other, Ronan was the only one in any shape to walk away. 

Kavinsky had been curled up on his bloodstained sheets, shaking and sobbing. There was blood staining the sheets, blood on the floor. Blood on his pale, pale skin. Most of the blood had been Kavinsky’s. For every one of Ronan’s bruises and bitemarks, Kavinsky had three more decorating his skinny body. 

They’d both had a very bad night. 

The second he realized Kavinsky couldn’t move, Ronan had limped home. He wanted Gansey to lick his wounds for him because he didn’t think he could this time. Ronan wasn’t totally heartless, though. He’d sent a message to Jiang, telling him that K needed the Dream Pack. They would take care of him. 

“Alright, that’s done.” Gansey’s hands urged Ronan onto his back once more. He crawled around the bed so that he was on Ronan’s other side, where his arm was cut. “I think that the liquid stitches I have will work on this.” Gansey moved Ronan’s arm so that he could get at the cut easily. 

The liquid stitches didn’t add to the hurt. Ronan still, groaned, though. He wanted to come down. He didn’t want to float anymore. The patches of skin that Gansey hadn’t wiped clean were burning hot. 

Gansey finished applying the stitches. He pressed his wrist to Ronan’s forehead. “You’re burning up, Ronan.” There was even more worry in his voice. He sounded like he thought Ronan might die. Which wasn’t as ridiculous as it may have sounded. 

Ronan was sure he was ascending towards death. 

With his thumb, Gansey pushed the eyelid of Ronan’s good eye up. He hummed. “I think this is beyond me. I’ve got to make a call.” Gansey’s weight left the bed. When he spoke again, he sounded farther away. “Noah, can you keep an eye on him? Call me if he gets worse. I’ll be in the parking lot. I’ve got to call a doctor.” 

Ronan felt a cool, light weight on settle on him as though someone had draped a sheet over him. He opened his good eye and saw Noah, nearly transparent, laying on top of him. Ronan couldn’t decide if he liked it or not but he felt a tiny bit more grounded. He wished Gansey would come back and pet him and tell him everything would be okay. 

Noah kissed Ronan. His mouth was cold. It was the least sexual kiss that Ronan had ever had. “I know what you’re hiding from Gansey.” 

Ronan didn’t respond to the kiss. His busted lip didn’t feel quite as swollen anymore but the tears had come back. They rolled down his cheeks. 

Noah brushed Ronan’s tears away with his thumbs, leaving icy cold spots on Ronan’s face. “I’ll keep your secret, Ronan.” His hands slid between the bed and Ronan’s back. They soothed the pain there. Noah kissed Ronan’s throat under the dog collar. “If you ever want to do it without the pain, you can come to me.” 

Ronan was a broken thing, a shattered object that felt all of his broken pieces. He wanted the pain to stop. He wanted the drugs to wear off. He didn’t want to think about the next time or what Noah was offering. 

“No pressure either way,” Noah slipped a thigh between Ronan’s thighs. 

The coolness of his leg made Ronan groan again. It felt so good. The screaming, fire-hot bites on Ronan’s thighs finally cooled. The shaking started then, an uncontrollable tremble that rocked Ronan from his head to his toes. Sweat formed everywhere that Noah didn’t touch. Ronan was suddenly sure that he was going to die.

“You won’t die today, Ronan,” Noah promised. He lined his body up with Ronan’s in a desperate attempt to keep him cool. “Do you want me to get Gansey?” 

Ronan wanted Gansey very, very much. His mind told him that Gansey meant safety and a lack of pain. He thought Gansey could heal him, save him. However, Ronan did not want to give up Noah’s ghostly cold. His voice had been taken from him sometime in the night; he couldn’t tell Noah what he wanted. 

Noah stayed. He laid on top of Ronan and occasionally kissed the places that his hands weren’t touching. His touch was a cooling balm, relief against the fire that Kavinsky had started in Ronan. The difference was that Kavinsky would have let Ronan burn to nothing. Noah stayed with Ronan until Gansey returned. Then he vanished, taking his coldness with him. 

Gansey sighed when he saw that Noah wasn’t there. He came back to the bed and tugged Ronan’s boots off. They thunked onto the floor. Ronan’s jeans followed the way of his boots. Gansey left again for a minute that felt like forever. When he came back, he was accompanied by the rattling of a pill bottle. “Without a blood test, they can’t tell what’s in your system. Do you know what he gave you, Ronan?”

Ronan gave a quick shake of his head. Just that small motion made him dizzy. He swallowed against his nausea. 

“That’s not helpful but also not surprising.” Gansey freed Ronan’s wrists from his t-shirt and tossed the shirt onto the floor. “The doctor said a mild painkiller shouldn’t make things worse.” He sat beside Ronan on the bed and twisted the top off the pill bottle. “Sit up, Ronan.” 

Ronan didn’t want to sit up. He didn’t think he could. But when he tried it, his body was more than willing to comply. He kept his eyes closed, couldn’t seem to open them now that he’d closed them. Ronan wanted to pass out. He wanted the bliss of unconsciousness. Even if that came with dreams. Hell, if he dreamed, he could fix his tattoo. 

“Open your mouth, Ronan.”

Ronan opened his mouth. 

Gansey placed a small pill on his tongue. He held a glass of water to his lips. “Swallow, Ronan.” 

Ronan shuddered as memories bombarded him. He brought a shaking hand up to Gansey’s hand, was comforted by the feeling of Gansey’s skin. Ronan took a drink and swallowed the pill down. 

“Good job, Ronan,” Gansey said softly. He twisted away and set the glass on the floor beside the bed. “Lay down and get comfortable, Ronan.” 

Ronan wasn’t sure that he _could_ get comfortable. He sort of wanted to throw up now that there was something in his stomach. But Gansey had given him an order so Ronan lay down with his back to Gansey. It was wishful thinking, probably. 

Except it wasn’t because Gansey slotted himself against Ronan’s back. Gansey wiggled a bit while he tried to figure out how to arrange himself to avoid causing Ronan pain, but eventually he found something that worked for him. He wasn’t cold like Noah, he was hot and it hurt. But it weighed Ronan down, held him a little closer to the ground. 

Ronan wished Noah would come back.

And then Noah was in his arms, cold body pressed against Ronan’s front. He pressed his thigh between Ronan’s thighs again, kept his skin from burning. 

Gansey carefully pet Ronan’s buzzed head, avoided the sore spot. He hummed softly as he did. 

Ronan yawned into Noah’s hair. He kept Noah tucked under his chin, didn’t worry about suffocating him because Noah was already dead. The painkiller was working, slowly. The knots in Ronan’s muscles relaxed, the bruises ached a little less. The cut on his arm didn’t bother him and the fire-hot bites on his thighs faded into background noise. As he drifted off, Ronan heard Noah and Gansey whispering about him. 

Gansey asked questions and Noah avoided giving him answers. They held Ronan between them for hours, Gansey’s hand on his head and Noah’s mouth on his throat.


	2. Noah

Three weeks later found Ronan in his room with Noah in his bed. They lay together sharing earbuds. This wasn’t an unusual occurrence. Noah loved listening to the music that had come out since he’d died. Ronan liked having someone to chill with that didn’t expect him to talk. 

Ronan’s bruises were yellow patches on his torso. The scratches were shiny pink lines on his chest and hips. Gansey’s liquid stitches were doing their trick and Ronan had managed not to tear them open. He had fixed his tattoo in a dream. Ronan was lying low. His libido, however, did not care that they were lying low. Ronan had spent so long running to Kavinsky every time he was turned on that masturbation wasn’t doing much for him. 

“ _Have_ you ever had sex that didn’t hurt?” Noah asked out of the blue. 

Ronan thought about it. If Kavinsky didn’t physically tear him apart, he did so mentally and emotionally. Ronan sighed and threw his arm over his eyes. He didn’t manage to do this quite as dramatically as he wanted to because of the stitches but he was trying, damn it.

Noah rested his cheek on his hand. He smiled but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I had a lay like that too. Then he stole our girlfriend and killed me. But I don’t think that’s what Kavinsky has in mind for you.”

Ronan sighed again. “What the fuck, Noah?” Why did they have to talk about sex at all? _Because you’re horny and he can read minds._ Which reminded him of the offer that Noah had made. Well, okay, Ronan didn’t forget about it. How could he forget about it when a cute boy offers up sex? No. Ronan didn’t forget, he just wasn’t thinking about it. 

Noah reached out and traced a line across Ronan’s throat. He let his hand fall to Ronan’s chest, just over his heart. He was an actual weight on Ronan’s chest. There was some substance to Noah today. His blue eyes met Ronan’s. “If you say no, I won’t ever bring it up again.” 

Ronan did not say no. 

Noah pushed himself into a kneeling position. “Can I kiss you?” 

Ronan nodded. 

Noah leaned forward. His lips met Ronan’s. If kissing Kavinsky was like fireworks then kissing Noah was like snowfall; soft, ethereal, cold. He slipped his tongue past Ronan’s lips.

Noah tasted like water, which was to say, like nothing in particular. It was so strange that Ronan cupped his head and pulled him in for a deeper kiss. He licked past Noah’s lips, rubbed his tongue against Noah’s tongue. Yes, he was flavorless as water. It was bizarre. Ronan thought he liked it, though. And the chill was getting to a lukewarm stage, which said good things about the sex they were going to have.

Noah broke the kiss to giggle. “Are you always so analytical?”

Ronan blushed. “The person I kiss isn’t usually in my head.” That wasn’t quite right though. Kavinsky had been in Ronan’s head dozens of times. Except he didn’t think he was actually this analytical with Kavinsky. The truth was that Ronan was comparing the experiences. He met Noah’s eye. “I’m not doing it on purpose.” 

Noah’s smile hadn’t faded. “I know.” 

Ronan’s mind was still turning, though. He’d never kissed a ghost. The experience was completely new. He wondered suddenly what Noah tasted like elsewhere. Ronan didn’t know how to put the thought into words to ask. He never had to ask for things with Kavinsky. They just took from each other. 

Noah’s face brightened. “Oh yes, Ronan! Yes, let’s do that!” He flailed out of his pants and underwear. The sweatshirt stayed on. 

It was only in that moment that Ronan realized how cute it looked on Noah. Noah himself was cute with his pale legs and pink cock. Ronan palmed himself, adjusted his hardening cock in his jeans. 

Noah smiled shyly. The smudge on his cheek was less pronounced than normal. He crawled back onto the bed. “Lemme help you with that.” Noah deftly unbuttoned Ronan’s jeans and tugged them down.

Ronan lifted his hips to help and watched Noah’s every move. They were going to have sex. Ronan felt like it should be monumental. In a way it was. But Noah and Ronan were both tactile people and they’d cuddled before - not that Ronan would call it cuddling - and Noah was a friend. A friend to laugh with and listen to music with. A friend who loved glitter and begged Ronan to paint his nails. The point was, Ronan could fuck this up and they would still be friends. 

Noah’s smile brightened. He pulled Ronan’s jeans and underwear completely off, left them on the floor. He crawled back up Ronan’s body, cock leaking cool precum onto Ronan’s abdomen. He didn’t say a word about the still-purple bruises on Rona thighs. “We can still back out.”

Ronan shook his head. No. Noah had offered something new, something tantalizing. Sex without pain, sex without being mauled one way or another. Sex that wouldn’t make Gansey look at him like that. 

Noah cocked his head. His icy blue eyes were calculating. In the end, Noah didn’t say anything about Ronan’s thoughts. He leaned down and brushed his lips against Ronan’s. “Ready?”

Ronan hummed agreement. 

Noah turned around and swung a leg over Ronan.

Ronan slid down a bit so that his face was level with Noah’s ass. And that was when Ronan realized he’d never eaten anyone out before. But he had watched porn - at Kavinsky’s place because Monmouth didn’t have WiFi - so he knew the idea. Ronan parted Noah's cheeks and licked his hole. It was an experimental lick. Noah didn’t taste like anything. His skin had the same water taste that his mouth did. Ronan wondered if that was a ghost thing or a Noah thing. 

Above him, Noah whined softly. 

That was probably a good sign. Dear god, he felt like a virgin all over again. Ronan mentally shook himself. He’d been having sex for years. He could fucking do this and not be a little bitch about it. Ronan used the flat of his tongue to lick a wide strip across Noah's hole. Then he stiffened his tongue and prodded at the rim. He wanted to taste him, to find out if Noah was warmer on the inside. Ronan pushed his tongue into Noah. 

Noah’s legs shook on either side of Ronan’s head. His spine arched. “R-Ronan if you keep doing that, I’m gonna c-cum.” 

Ronan redoubled his efforts. He pushed his tongue into Noah as far as he could. Some part of him wanted to make Noah’s ass taste like him the same way as he’d done with Noah’s mouth. It was obscene. Ronan reached a hand around to stroke Noah’s cock. It felt unfamiliar in his hand, a different weight and length than Ronan was used to. Smaller, more slender. 

When he came, Noah let out the prettiest moan that Ronan had ever heard. It was a needy little sound, and somewhat surprised as though his orgasm had snuck up on him. He came on Ronan’s chest and the temperature of that was lukewarm at best. His legs still shook.

Ronan kissed both of Noah’s cheeks. He kissed the undersides of his thighs. He kissed Noah’s hole, wet with Ronan’s saliva. Ronan was painfully hard, so turned on by the boy riding his face that he had to squeeze the base of his cock to keep from coming. Maybe, just maybe, there was something to this. 

Noah shivered. He pulled away and turned to face Ronan again. “You did great.” Noah sat back on Ronan’s hips. He reached around and grasped Ronan’s cock. His hand wasn’t quite as cold as normal. Noah guided Ronan’s cock into him and sank down to the base. Noah smiled slyly. “So much better than that time you threw me out the window, right?” 

Ronan stopped breathing the moment that he’d penetrated Noah. Noah’s body was much, much colder than he was used to. He couldn’t help but shiver. Once Ronan got past the initial chill, he could appreciate that Noah was smooth and tight around him. It felt good, Noah felt good. Ronan made himself breathe. He locked eyes with Noah, gazed into those icy blues. “Once.” His voice was wrecked. “I threw you out a window one time.” 

Noah leaned forward. It caused him to rise several inches up Ronan’s cock. Friction as sweet and cold as ice cream. He rocked back down. “And this is the one time you’ve had sex with me.” 

Ronan felt like he was missing some leap of logic but he nodded all the same. Because yes, that’s what they were doing. He rested his hands on Noah’s hips, felt the bones shift against his palms while Noah rode him. He thrust his hips up on one of Noah’s downward thrusts. 

Noah gave another pretty moan. He tightened around Ronan’s cock. Noah rode Ronan at a steady pace. His hands smoothed down Ronan’s chest, made the mess of cum cold. He didn’t sink his nails in or pinch Ronan’s nipples. His hands didn’t wrap around Ronan’s throat to bruise and his teeth didn’t puncture Ronan’s skin. 

It was gentle and painless. Ronan didn’t know what to do with it. Until they were actually doing it, Ronan didn’t realize that all of the sex he’d had with Kavinsky had actually been painful in one way or another. Ronan rarely walked away from Kavinsky without a mark to show for it. He made up for the abrupt change in nature by thrusting harder, setting a faster pace. He sat up so that he could wrap his arms around Noah’s pale, lithe body even though it made him shiver from cold. His teeth ached with the longing to bite. 

“It’s okay, Ronan.” Noah ran his hand over Ronan’s buzzed scalp. He adjusted to Ronan’s harsher pace with ease. “You can bite me.”

Ronan groaned. He opened his mouth but didn’t dare to bite yet. If he hurt Noah - even though Noah was dead - he wasn’t sure he could forgive himself. It was one thing to throw a friend out a window; it was another to sink yourself into them. 

Noah rubbed his cheek against Ronan’s. “It’s okay. I promise. You won’t hurt me. Not really.” 

Something clicked into place for Ronan then too. He’d never had sex without hurting his partner. As much as Ronan hated to admit it, Kavinsky never walked away from him without a mark to show for it. What they had, it barely worked for them. It was all anger and hatred and pain. Ronan remembered spitting out Kavinsky’s blood. But Noah? Noah had had enough of that. It was what killed him. Ronan couldn’t do that to Noah, who didn’t deserve it. Ronan made a point of gently biting down on Noah’s neck, of keeping his jaws mostly open. He sucked a hickey into Noah’s neck without being sure that it would even show up. 

Noah shuddered in his arms and bared his neck for Ronan. His thighs squeezed around Ronan’s hips. “Oh! You’re mouth feels so good.” 

Noah’s words sent a bolt of heat through Ronan. He kissed and licked along Noah’s throat, he lightly scraped his teeth along Noah’s collarbones. Gentleness could be a two-way street. His desperate, rough thrusts had slowed back down to the pace Noah had before. That steady upwards climb towards orgasm. Ronan’s orgasm rose slowly and washed over him sweetly. It was so different from having his orgasms forced out of him. He was dizzy with the feeling. He tipped backwards, a slow fall, bringing Noah down with him. 

Noah laughed. His smile illuminated the space. He rubbed Ronan’s nose with his nose. He pulled off of Ronan’s cock but remained lying stretched out on him. The coolness of his skin was a blessing. 

Ronan opened one eye to look at Noah. He would still be hard for a few minutes. He could probably get Noah off again. 

Noah smiled fondly at Ronan. “You already got me off once. That was enough.” He sat up and used a part of the comforter to clean both of them off. Then he snuggled down with Ronan again. “So. How was it?” Noah sounded very smug, which was both wonderful and annoying. 

Ronan shrugged but he was smiling. He tried but he knew it was useless hiding his thoughts and feelings from Noah. Noah would know that it was incredible sex, that Ronan’s chest was so full of happiness that it felt like it might burst, that Ronan almost desperately wanted to do it again. 

“I’m happy that you’re happy.” Noah rubbed their noses together again. “We can do it again, as much as you like.” His tone was sad and hopeful. 

“Are you saying that because you don’t want me going out with Kavinsky again?” 

Noah slid a hand between Ronan’s thighs and touched the teeth-shaped bruises there. The things that he’d hidden from Gansey. His cool touch was the only thing that made the bitemarks stop hurting. “I know you won’t stop seeing him. I just...want you to know that there’s more than what you have with him.” The hope had slipped from Noah’s voice and in its wake was a deep sorrow. 

Ronan closed his eyes. “I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what he was apologizing for. Everything, probably. 

Noah kept his head tucked beneath Ronan’s chin and his hand between Ronan’s thighs. “I’m here if you need me,” he whispered. 

Ronan pressed his lips to Noah’s hair because it was the only way he knew how to say thank you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is the brutal one.


	3. Kavinsky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kavinsky and Ronan do drugs and it's bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, almost two years later, I finally finished this. Oops.

Ronan drove around town with gasoline in his veins and a hammer pounding away behind his eyes. He was wound tighter than the strings of a violin. Ronan and sleep were no longer on speaking terms and after several days of this, Ronan was both corrosive and volatile. His tension thrummed with the bass blaring from his speakers.

The white Mitsubishi stood out against candy colored cars. Kavinsky hung out the drivers side window with all the looseness of a doll. His hollow eyes were hooded and he wore a wolfish grin. 

Ronan did donuts around Kavinsky’s car, kicked up dust with his tires. When he was sure he had Kavinsky’s attention, Ronan sped off. He could almost hear Kavinsky cussing as he slid back into his car and sped after Ronan. They drove through redlights, didn’t slow down for stop signs, and sped around corners. The car growled as it ate mile after mile of asphalt. 

Ronan drove to Kavinsky’s plastic mansion, ripping up the turf in the front yard with his tires and almost crashing through the front door. 

Kavinsky knocked over the mailbox and was out of his car without turning the engine off. He moved with the angry gait of someone intending to throw punches. 

Ronan bared his teeth and disappeared into the shadows of the mansion. He knew where Kavinsky’s bedroom was and made a beeline for it, breaking shit as he went because he knew it would piss K off. Only Kavinsky was allowed to break his own stuff. 

Kavinsky followed him, cussing up a storm and threatening what he was going to do when he caught Ronan. It was exactly what Ronan wanted. Gods, did Ronan want it; want Kavinsky to take him apart and remake him. 

Ronan knew he took it for granted that he didn’t have to speak a word while around Kavinsky. Almost the second that he was through the bedroom door, Ronan twisted around and pounced. His fist connected with Kavinsky’s sharp jaw. 

Kavinsky rolled with the punch. He bounced off the opposite wall, then used the momentum to launch himself at Ronan. They toppled into the room, a growling tangle of limbs. They rolled into the dresser. 

An empty bottle fell onto Ronan’s forehead, making him dizzy and causing pain to explode. He shook his head and blinked, trying to clear his vision. 

Kavinsky grabbed the bottle and shattered it against the dresser. 

Glass rained down on Ronan. He barely covered his face in time. Then hot, searing pain as his flesh was cut open with the sharp edge of a glass shard. Ronan’s blood flowed hot and thick onto Kavinsky’s tile floors. He bunched his muscles and pushed Kavinsky off of him. 

Kavinsky yelped as the glass shard embedded itself into his palm. A quick shake of his hand dislodged the shard, sent it clicking against the floor. His nose was bleeding down his face, red staining his shirt and dripping onto the tiles. He ran his tongue over his upper lip, smearing the blood. 

It shouldn’t have been as sexy as it was. Ronan wondered when his wires got so crossed that this was the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. His cock twitched in his jeans, interested in what Kavinsky’s bloody mouth could do for it. 

Kavinsky moved fast as a snake, kicking Ronan solidly in the face. 

More pain and more hot blood. It gushed from Ronan’s nose. 

Kavinsky wore a self satisfied smirk. Kavinsky lunged for Ronan and by the time Ronan saw the needle, Kavinsky was already pulling it out of his skin. “You’re gonna fly, sweetheart.” Kavinsky had the grin of a hyena. 

Ronan rubbed the spot. He worried only a little about whatever Kavinsky had put into his system. This wasn’t the first time and they knew how far they could go with each other. “What was that?” 

Kavinsky’s hands shook as he caressed Ronan’s cheek. “Something like liquid dust.” 

Heat flared up in the wound. Ronan could feel the drug burning its way through his veins. He didn’t know much about angel dust but he didn’t think this was how it was supposed to feel. “Angel dust?” 

Kavinsky laughed, a cruel sound like broken glass. “No. This will take you straight to hell.” 

The shaking started all at once, everywhere. Ronan’s bones were vibrating. “What does it do?” His voice sounded far away. 

Kavinsky only grinned. “I’ll give you exactly what you need,” he said and pressed his bloody lips to Ronan’s lips. He kissed Ronan for a while, then hauled him to his feet and pushed Ronan to the bed. As he followed the stumbling Ronan, Kavinsky pulled his shirt over his head and unbuttoned his jeans. He wasn’t wearing underwear beneath them. By the time he stood knee-to-knee with Ronan, Kavinsky was naked. 

He was beautiful. 

The fire stoked hotter at the sight of Kavinsky naked, as it always did, lust threatening to consume Ronan from the inside out. He was going to hell, was already in hell? Maybe Kavinsky was his demon. Ronan fumbled with his clothes but his hands shook too much. What did K give him? 

“Don’t worry, love, I’ve got it,” Kavinsky purred. He pulled the shirt over Ronan’s head and got his boots and jeans off. Then he straddled Ronan. Kavinsky moved sinuously, sensually, rocking up and down on Ronan’s lap. His nails sank into Ronan’s chest and clawed all the way down to his hips, leaving bright red lines behind. He kissed Ronan, bit his lip so hard that even more blood flowed between them. 

The scratches should have hurt, a distant part of Ronan’s brain told him. He should have been in agony. It should have pissed him off. But it didn’t and he wasn’t. Instead, his brain screamed _pleasure_ at him and Ronan pushed his hips into Kavinsky’s ass. 

Kavinsky’s hands moved fast, so fast that Ronan didn’t even notice until they were wrapped around his throat. He pushed, forced Ronan back onto the bed, and kept up that steady grinding against Ronan’s cock. 

Ronan couldn’t breathe. Between bleeding out and how quickly his blood rushed to fill his cock, Ronan’s brain was next to useless. His body struggled to draw breath, lips moving as his face steadily turned red and then blue. 

Just when it felt like his eyes were going to pop out of his skull, Kavinsky let go. 

Oxygen flooded Ronan’s lungs in the most painful breath he’s ever taken. Where there hadn’t been enough, there was now too much, and Ronan was suffocating he was - 

Kavinsky’s teeth sank into his throat. He sucked so violently that Ronan could feel the hickey forming. He trailed down, played with Ronan’s nipples until they were red and raw and bruised. Then more and more, mouth leaving a path of hot pleasure toward Ronan’s cock. 

Ronan gasped and writhed in pleasure. He moaned loud and often, the complete opposite of how it usually was. Usually, he was ashamed but there was no room for shame with the drugs in his system telling him that this was so good he was going to cum. Oh god, he was going to cum before they even _did_ anything. 

Kavinsky’s grip on his balls was tight, drawing them down to delay Ronan’s orgasm. He gazed up at Ronan through his eyelashes and sweetly licked the head of Ronan’s cock. One swipe of his tongue and he moved on. 

Ronan groaned in disappointment. He covered his eyes with the heels of his hands, suddenly remembering that he did in fact have hands. 

Kavinsky sank his teeth into Ronan’s upper inner thigh. He bit down so hard that Ronan felt his flesh tearing and separating from his body. He swallowed audibly. 

Ronan almost sat straight up. He dug the heels of his feet into Kavinsky’s spine. His cock jerked and a huge glob of precum slid down the shaft. 

As Kavinsky kept working his teeth in Ronan’s thighs, tearing them apart, staking his claim, Ronan’s pleasure mounted. It built within him, a rising crescendo of fiery feeling within his body. The pleasure was unlike anything that Ronan had ever experienced, so good that Ronan _did_ cum now. 

When Kavinsky pulled away, his mouth was red and blood dripped from his chin. His eyes were all black, no white showing at all. He looked like a wolf that just had its face in the fresh body of its kill. He gazed down at the cum on Ronan’s stomach and smirked. His teeth were red too. 

Ronan remembered that he had hands and he rolled them over with so much ease that he wondered how he’d forgotten his strength. He gripped Kavinsky’s biceps hard as he rubbed his cum into the other teen’s skin. Kavinsky wasn’t the only one who could stake a claim. Ronan was going to ruin him. Ronan was going to make sure the whole world knew that Kavinsky was his... 

With both hands, Kavinsky pushed Ronan’s head down between his thighs. He said something that sounded like Ronan’s name but butchered to hell and back. 

Ronan settled between Kavinsky’s thighs. He ignored K’s dick for now, too intent on giving Kavinsky exactly what he’d gotten. The flesh between his teeth felt so good. Ronan chewed, ground it between his molars, and let his canines rip into it. The bitter strong salt of blood flooded into his mouth. Ronan made a trail from Kavinsky’s throat to his pelvis. 

Kavinsky moaned and arched beneath him. He wouldn’t stay still, twisting and writhing as Ronan tore into him like a dog. His cock stood at attention between them, precum leaking onto his belly. Kavinsky sank his nails into Ronan’s back and clawed deep. 

Cold air danced along the wet cuts on Ronan’s back. It felt too good. Everything felt too good. He rolled into Kavinsky’s touch, eyes rolling as he did. He moaned, felt the blood in his mouth spilling out onto Kavinsky’s pale flesh. His cock was hard too, hung heavy between his legs again. Ronan smoothed his hands down Kavinsky’s thighs, felt the heat of his skin, and pushed them open. 

“Do it,” Kavinsky challenged. His black eyes glittered with madness. He flexed, hole fluttering temptingly. One hand left Ronan’s back to grab his cock in a too-tight grip. 

Ronan’s eyes rolled back in his head. He hissed in pain, but allowed Kavinsky to guide his cock. Pushing into the tight heat of Kavinsky’s body was a religious experience. K’s never felt so good. Ronan moaned and gripped Kavinsky’s hand. Then he started thrusting. They were deep, hard thrusts. The kind that shook the bed and made the headboard bang against the wall. And then they were fast. 

Kavinsky’s moans were almost shouts as Ronan fucked them from him. He held on tight to Ronan’s hand, head tipped back and the bloody column of his throat exposed. He tried to keep up but was very much just along for Ronan’s ride. 

Ronan squeezed Kavinsky’s hands harder and harder and pounded into him with a single-minded determination. He was beginning to get the out-of-body sensation that came with hard drugs and Ronan didn’t want to be out of his body right now. He wanted to be sweat and blood and flesh with Kavinsky. 

The bed rocked. Kavinsky screamed his pleasure to the heavens. Pearlescent white cum spilled from his cock as he came. His pale skin flushed red, their blood drying around his mouth, his hair a mess. He looked like an angel. Ronan’s angel, pure perfection, here to send Ronan straight to heaven. Something within Kavinsky’s hands cracked and Kavinsky only moaned. 

Ronan didn’t let go as he felt the strange bending of Kavinsky’s fingers. He didn’t slow his pace. Without lube it should have been dry, but there was so much blood on their thighs that it made up for the lack of lube. His second orgasm felt like he was breaking every bone in his back as he arched impossibly far and opened his mouth in a silent scream. He was balls deep in Kavinsky. 

Kavinsky panted beneath Ronan. He muttered something about a drop. His eyes were open, staring. He shifted and Ronan slid out of him. 

Ronan released Kavinsky’s hands and rolled off of him. He lay on his back on the bed, dizzy, feeling like he was suffocating. His whole body sang and thrummed with glorious red pleasure. His mind went blank. 

As the drug loosened its claws in Ronan’s mind, Ronan began to feel as though he’d been hit by a bus or mauled by wolves or something equally brutal and unpleasant. The tremble didn’t go away and his muscles ached from how hard he’d been shaking for how long. Whenever he opened his eyes, the world spun violently. The only reason Ronan didn’t throw up was because there was nothing left in his system to vomit. Still, he put a hand over his mouth and closed his eyes again. 

More slowly than any high - or low, as the case may be - that he’s ever experienced, Ronan came down off the drugs. He became aware of more than just how terrible he felt and could actually input information from outside of his own body. 

Someone was crying. The bed was wet. Those two things didn’t make sense for a minute, didn’t connect in his head. 

Ronan turned his head. 

Kavinsky was curled into a tight ball around a red pillow, sobbing into his wrists because his hands were fucked up. Some of his fingers were bent...wrong. The longer Ronan looked, the more he realized that it wasn’t a red pillow. It was a white pillow dyed red with blood. Kavinsky has never cried before, especially not these wracking full-body sobs. 

Ronan reached out, touched Kavinsky’s elbow because that seemed like a safe place to touch without hurting. “K…what...happened?” 

Kavinsky’s eyes were both swollen but he managed to open them to slits, glistening black peering at Ronan. It took a few moments to calm his breathing enough that he could speak. When he did, his voice sounded deceptively normal. “Feel better?” 

Ronan saw what Kavinsky was asking. Was he satisfied? Did the drugs - and Kavinsky - do their job in rooting Ronan firmly in his skin? He nodded, even though he felt sick to his stomach and suddenly incredibly dirty. God, and more importantly, Gansey, was not going to forgive him for this. He danced his fingertips up to Kavinsky’s wrists, feeling the indentations of bite marks. He stopped before touching Kavinsky’s hands with those broken fingers. “Dream?” 

_Why don’t you dream?_

Another sob, this one seeming to surprise Kavinsky as much as Ronan. “I can’t fall asleep,” Kavinsky wailed, sounding scared and desperate. He tucked his face back into the red pillow and cried on it some more. 

Ronan would not want to be trapped in whatever hell Kavinsky was clearly in right now. He rolled, groaned in pain as his whole body hurt like one tender bruise, and then fell off the bed. It was a planned fall, so Ronan mostly caught himself, but it still hurt. His arms and legs trembled under his weight. He crawled to his jeans, where his phone was still in the back pocket. Ronan sent a text to Jiang, his fingers shaking so badly that he could barely type. 

Then, Ronan lay on the cold tile floor for a while. He didn’t sleep, but he did doze. When he woke again, he felt well enough to stand up. The room still swayed, or maybe he was the one swaying, but Ronan managed to pull on his clothes. He checked that he had his phone and wallet. His car keys, Ronan left on the floor. Kavinsky or one of the Dream Pack could return his car later. He didn’t care. 

Ronan crossed to the bed. He leaned down and kissed Kavinsky’s cheek, right over a bruise that he only vaguely remembered putting there. “Pack’s on their way,” Ronan forced the words out. It was hard. He needed a drink. “See you...on the streets...K.” A pause, waiting for Kavinsky to respond but he didn’t, then Ronan kissed K’s cheek again and left.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm submitting this in the order that I wrote the chapters for two reasons. 1.) I feel like it. 2.) So that people can avoid chapter three if they so choose, but still get the good parts of the story. Chapter three is the Kavinsky chapter that details exactly how Ronan ended up in the state he was in. 
> 
> If you want to know more about Gansey, Ronan, and the collar, then please check out my other work, creatively titled [Collared](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20544665).
> 
> As always, if you enjoyed this work, please comment. I love getting comments.


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